[Well, it's not the lesson he was expecting. He can't seem to find his voice to ask what Greed is doing grabbing his hand like that, doesn't even think to tug his hand back and make some half-assed posturing about not grabbing people whenever he wants. It's just Ling sitting there in silence, eyes locked on Greed, half-coherent thought about salt, drink, lime just barely managing to form.
Salt-drink-lime. Why do people drink this shit if it burns and they have to eat salt, pure salt, first?
Ling shows up at the bar a few times in a month, maybe less, it depends, and he never thinks anything out of the ordinary will happen.
Salt, then— ugly girls on Tuesdays, and Ling has flirted around, stolen a kiss or two here and there, but the girls in his family's circles are soft and pretty and none of them can capture his attention like someone rude and loud and as far from soft as a person can be. Greed does whatever he wants and Ling should object to it, surely, pull his hand away and stop this stupid drink lesson and maybe even go home, but it's too late now; the spot on his wrist feels electric. His ears burn, embarrassed; all it takes is that? He's not fucking twelve.
Clearly, this is why people drink.]
Salt, drink, lime. [This is a bad idea, but what's life without a couple terminally bad ideas?] Okay.
no subject
Salt-drink-lime. Why do people drink this shit if it burns and they have to eat salt, pure salt, first?
Ling shows up at the bar a few times in a month, maybe less, it depends, and he never thinks anything out of the ordinary will happen.
Salt, then— ugly girls on Tuesdays, and Ling has flirted around, stolen a kiss or two here and there, but the girls in his family's circles are soft and pretty and none of them can capture his attention like someone rude and loud and as far from soft as a person can be. Greed does whatever he wants and Ling should object to it, surely, pull his hand away and stop this stupid drink lesson and maybe even go home, but it's too late now; the spot on his wrist feels electric. His ears burn, embarrassed; all it takes is that? He's not fucking twelve.
Clearly, this is why people drink.]
Salt, drink, lime. [This is a bad idea, but what's life without a couple terminally bad ideas?] Okay.